Ladder
by Last of the Loneliness
Summary: A day in the rain and mishaps in a tree-it seems like a bad day for Near, until Mello does something surprising.


**My DN oneshot has finally been published. It's an idea I've had for a while, so there you go! Any reviews are appreciated.**

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><p>Morning—sunlight filtering through open blinds, a rude awakening. Climbing out of bed, changing into clothing that wasn't clean or really appropriate, but that was comfortable. Looking in the mirror at a wild head of curls and deciding it was too much trouble to comb.<p>

The wide window showed a dismal day, fog gathering on the window and leaving winding tendrils down the sweeping lawn, wrapping itself around trees and obscuring anything past the street. It was a day for curling up in bed with a cup of tea, for staying inside and reading a long novel.

Of course, for Near, almost every day was a day like that.

A sharp knock came on the door and Roger's voice issued from beyond the wood. "Near, are you up? Can I come in?"

The room's single occupant turned and instinctively wrapped a coil of hair around his finger. "Yes."

The door opened to reveal the old caretaker of the orphanage, his face heavy with wrinkles and his hairline receding.

"Near, I want you to put on some proper clothing and come down," Roger said firmly. "We're going outside today."

"In this…?" Near asked, glancing out the window. To be honest, he didn't care what the weather was; he hated being outside whether it was sunny or the midst of a snowstorm.

"Yes," Roger said, eyes narrowing as if he could guess what Near was thinking. "So put on your coat and some pants, all right?"

They both knew it wasn't a request, so Near didn't bother responding. The silence lengthened until Roger shifted uncomfortably and began to back out the door. "Come down for breakfast when you're ready, then."

The elderly man disappeared behind the wood again, closing it behind him with a soft thump. Near sighed and faced his room again.

It was a handsome set of quarters, wood-paneled and with wide, clean windows, a large bed, and thick carpeting. The room was the only one in the orphanage intended to hold one child. The room was given to whoever scored highest on the monthly exams, and then the child moved back into the dorms to give the room to the next victor. However, the room was Near's permanently—no other child at the orphanage could outscore him.

Near took a tentative seat at the edge of the bed and pulled the white shirt over his head without bothering to undo the buttons. He let it fall on the floor and stared at it, white cloth crumpled against beige carpet, before he stood again to rummage in his drawers for an outfit to wear outside.

Breakfast was toast spread with butter and eggs over easy. Near ate his portion, staring off into space, at a table with other children at it but still alone. None of the others really acknowledged him, which suited Near just fine. The one good thing about being the most intelligent child at Wammy's House was that, since everyone wanted to be in his position, no one mocked or teased him too much about it, other than Mello, of course. Most of the other children were too focused on their studies to pay attention to the others anyway.

At around eight o' clock, Roger entered the room and the children obeyed his silent signal to get up and bring their dirty dishes over to the kitchen window before lining up and filing out the large, double set of doors that led out of the dining hall and into the dimly lit entryway of the orphanage. It was not a very impressive room, crowded with stairs against the wall and a small corridor leading back to other rooms, with the doors to the dining room occupying all of the space on the leftmost wall. The children of Wammy's House gathered into the small space, pulling on coats hanging from the hooks on the right wall, and sliding on their shoes, most of which were neatly piled on the carpet.

It was the sort of room that one couldn't help but be quiet in, so it was unnerving when a sharp voice broke through the soft whispers.  
>"Tom, you bastard, give me back my shoes!"<p>

"Mello!" Roger scolded, moving through the crowd to grab Mello sternly by his collar. The blonde rolled his eyes, anger still apparent in them. "What have I told you about using language?"

"I don't see the point in my remembering, as you're just going to tell me again," Mello said, jerking his jacket collar out of Roger's reach. The old man sighed. "Mello, apologize to Tom."

"Only when he apologizes for stealing my shoes," Mello said stubbornly, still keeping his distance from Roger so that he couldn't take a hold on Mello's clothes again.

Roger closed his eyes as if begging for patience and turned to the child in question. "Tom, give Mello his shoes back and apologize."

Tom, a tall youth with spiky black hair, gave Mello a cocky smile and held out his pair of sneakers. Mellow snatched them and gave him a vicious glare. "I'm sorry, Mello," Tom said in a sing-song tone.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Mello said, malevolence clear in his gaze. Near was sure that Tom would pay for his insult somehow outside, where it was harder to keep track of all of the kids and fog made a great cover for breaking the rules of the orphanage.

Roger nodded and pushed his way through the other kids to unbolt and open the front door, letting in a wave of cold, moist air. Even under the cover of his jacket, Near shivered.

"Stay on the grounds," Roger reminded them, as the children started to file out into the yard. They were moving more slowly than they would on a warm day, probably wishing they could stay inside and enjoy another cup of the kitchen's delicious cocoa. Still, once they were used to the chill, they ran off in different directions, dividing into groups of two or three friends.

Near was one of the last children outside and he looked around the yard, unsure of where to go as he pulled his coat tighter around him to block the chill. He disliked having to go outside, mostly because he disliked playing games with the other children and would much rather be inside, solving a puzzle or playing on his own with one of the many toys lying around in the orphanage.

"Near, aren't you going to play?" The voice was Roger's, the old man trailing after the others and turning to close the doors.

Near gave a noncommittal shrug, prompting a glance.

"Come on, Near," Roger said, sounding falsely cheery. "What's the point of us coming outside if you don't do anything when we're out here?"

Roger had just summed up why Near hated going outside, but he was spared the annoyance of responding when a child called Roger's name through the fog and he rushed off to see what was happening.

Near meandered slowly away from the door. He kept close to the side of the building, until he passed a corner and was in the garden. It was mostly made up of a few beds of flowers pressed against the brick wall, but there were stone benches scattered about and one large tree with gnarled branches reaching out in all directions.

He took his seat on one of the benches and sat comfortably for a few minutes, but then the cold and dampness of the stone began to seep through his clothing, making him shiver uncomfortably. Near stood and began to pace again, winding up at the bottom of the tree. The bark was wet and covered with moss, though still more comfortable than the stone seat.

One of the branches caught his eye. It was low-reaching, probably four feet off of the ground at its lowest point. _I could climb that_, he thought, and then started to mentally trace a path up the tree. Since Roger was so insistent on his performing some kind of physical activity, he might at least try. He gave the top of the tree a last glance and then pulled himself onto the first branch. It wasn't as hard as he had expected, and Near climbed from there into a fork of branches that joined at the trunk. He looked down and estimated that he was about ten feet off the ground.

Near's foot slipped slightly on a loose piece of bark and he redoubled his grip on the branch, not wanting to fall.

Before long he was nearing the upper reaches of the tree, away from the trunk but in the branches that swayed loosely in the wind. He came to a junction where he had to stand, barely balancing, on a thin branch, while he reached up to the next one and barely pulled himself up.

It was as far as he could go; the only branches past him were thin twigs that wouldn't hold the weight of a squirrel.

He sat there in the fork for a few minutes before deciding he wanted to get down. Near pressed one leg down on the thin, swaying branch, and nearly lost his grip. The piece of wood bent sharply under his weight, a gust of wind causing it to rock and his foot almost slipping off of it. He scrabbled to get his foot back on the branch, and then pulled himself back into the fork, shaking from nerves.

How was he going to get down? This venture seemed extremely idiotic in retrospect, and Near regretted even seeing the tree and thinking it would be simple to climb.

The rain began shortly, dripping through the leaves to leave him thoroughly soaked; unfortunately, his jacket was not waterproof. Near sat there, dripping and wet and cold, and wanted to curse. He certainly knew plenty of swears, most of them learned second hand from Mello.

And speaking of Mello…

"What are you doing up there?" The voice was too recognizable, but Near peered through the branches anyway to see the blonde-haired boy.

Near didn't respond, but Mello continued to rail insults and questions up at him until a new player entered the game: Roger. Apparently attracted by Mello's loud voice, the aged man came around the corner of the building and looked first at Mello. He was clearly confused by what, exactly, Mello was shouting at, until he followed Mello's gaze up the tree to see Near, perched at the top.

"Near, what are you doing?" Roger asked, surprised to see that Near had actually engaged in some physical activity. Usually he was prone to sitting on a bench and playing with grass or twigs, on the days when he wasn't able to sneak a toy out, at least.

Near sighed. He would have to confess sooner or later, and he was afraid of falling or being blown out of the tree. He couldn't maintain his current death grip on his branch forever.

"…I'm stuck." He tried to say it as quietly as possible, as though old Roger would somehow manage to hear but Mello would not.

"Ha!" Mello's laugh was raucous as he pointed at Near. "Stuck? Can't even climb a tree right, can you?"

"Mello!" Roger scolded, eyes narrowing before he turned back to Near. "Well…are you sure you can't climb down? Should I call one of the janitors to get a ladder and get you down?"

"Janitors," Mello snorted, and before Roger could stop him he was already climbing up the lower branches of the tree, scaling at a rate much faster than Near. Triumph shone in his face as he climbed, taking delight in the fact that for once there was something he was able to do much better than Near.

"Mello, get right back down here!" Roger called, but without any real conviction in his voice. "What if you get stuck too?"

"I won't," Mello yelled, already around halfway up to Near's branch. Roger shrugged hopelessly and stopped talking, just staring up at the two.

Mello continued, hauling himself up onto branch after branch until he was standing on the one directly below Near. He held out one hand, using the other to rest on the trunk so as to keep his balance. He pointed out spots for Near to rest his feet, and then backed up a bit to give him room. Near slowly edged down, holding his foot on the jutting bit of bark Mello had indicated on one of the branches. He put both feet down on the branch he had had such trouble with and clung to the thicker branch for support. From there it was easy to trace a path down with his eyes; all of the branches below were thick and much sturdier than the ones above.

"See? It's really not that difficult," Mello said, still smirking but not meeting Near's eyes. He swung down to the next branch, his arm wrapped around his current one for support, and landed down. As he was releasing his arm, however, the bark under his feet began to crumble. His arms desperately scrabbled to find purchase, but he was already plunging toward the ground.

"Mello!" Roger ran forward to the figure now lying on the grass and fallen leaves. For an instant Near thought that Mello might be dead, until he shifted to reveal his face, twisted with pain. Near hurried down carefully before walking across the grass to the other two. Some of the other children had come around the corner and were staying well back, murmuring and casting glances in Mello's direction. Near saw Tom among them, looking slightly vindictive. One, though, came forward, his brown bangs flopping over his eyes as he kneeled next to Mello. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine!" Mello snarled, though his sentence was broken midway by a gasp of pain. "Leave me alone, Matt!"

"Sorry," Matt muttered, withdrawing his hands from Mello and looking irritated under the large goggles that obscured his eyes.

"Where does it hurt, Mello?" Roger asked, leaning over the blonde-haired child.

"My leg," Mello said through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing closed for an instant before he opened them to show pain swirling in them. Now that Near looked, Mello's leg was indeed twisted up under him at an odd angle, his knee bending almost backwards.

"We'll get you inside," Roger promised, standing and striding through the groups of children gathered, watching. "Come on, come back inside," he said, waving his hand and trying to disperse the crowd.

Near turned back to Mello and looked down as he spoke, feeling embarrassed. "…Thanks for getting me out of the tree."

"What are you…talking about?" Mello asked, his eyebrows coming together in a sharp 'v' as his breath came in short gasps. "I didn't do it for you, just to prove that I am better than you at something."

A very small smile spread itself across Near's face. "Still, thanks."

"Stop smiling like that!" Mello commanded, now angry. When Near failed to follow the order, Mello looked away from him and closed his eyes. "Whatever!"

Near met Matt's eyes and then stood, walking slowly away to see if Roger was coming. _Well, it was something._


End file.
